Fazbear & Co
by Angawd
Summary: The Fazbear Four are a well-known and loved band, led by Freddy Fazbear himself. And soon, they have their final concert before their break. All seems well, but Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, and Foxy are unaware of rising tensions elsewhere. Someone seeks revenge, and they will do anything to get it. For the Fazbear Four and their friends, a race against time has just begun.
1. DISCLAIMER

**DISCLAIMER (PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING):**

\- **This is my own AU**. Nothing here is canon, although plans have been made to convert the AU into an original story.

\- **All art shown in this book, unless stated otherwise, is mine and has been made by me**. Look closely at the images and you may be able to see my logo or signature (or both).

\- For proof of the above, you may visit my deviantART or YouTube, as linked below.

\- **None of the work shown in this book, on my deviantART, on my YouTube or the Fazbear & Co wiki is being used for profit**. This project is solely a passion project.

\- **The Fazbear & Co wiki page is not claiming Scott's characters as my own**. It is simply a page I made out of enjoyment, where others can find the information about the story if they wish to do so.

\- Please **do not redistribute any of my work**. If you would like to use any of it for non-profitable means, please speak to me.

- **Full credit for the original** _ **Five Nights at Freddy's**_ **characters is given to their creator, Scott Cawthon**.

 **. . .**

 **STORY AND WORLD INFORMATION**

\- Fazbear & Co is set in the normal world, but with animals replacing humans.

\- Predator-and-prey mechanics do not apply in this world, hence as to why cats aren't bothered when a canine approaches or talks to them etc.

\- Smalltown is completely fictional; any resemblance to any existing town is entirely unintentional on my part.

 **Thank you for your time. It is greatly appreciated that you have read the disclaimer above. Find all of the relevant links below:**

 **DEVIANTART:**  
 **YOUTUBE:** channel/UCCDVtTW-RfxhlyO1BhDpksQ/featured  
 **FAZBEAR & CO WIKI: ** wiki/Fazbear_%26_Co_Wiki  
 **SCOTT CAWTHON'S OFFICIAL WEBSITE:**

I would also greatly appreciate it if you left comments and feedback on the story, it makes my day and I love to hear how I can improve! Constructive criticism is greatly valued.


	2. Meet the Gang

Name: Frederick Martin Fazbear, alias Freddy Fazbear  
Gender: Male  
Age: 21  
Species: Brown Bear  
Nationality: American

Freddy was always interested in music. His father, the highly-respected Eddie Fazbear, wanted him to follow in his footsteps as an architect or engineer, but the former found that the idea of those jobs never brought any excitement to him. Later on he was successful, and teamed up with Bonnie, Chica and Foxy to form his own band: the Fazbear Four.  
He is the lead singer in the band, and is outgoing and bold. Freddy's not afraid to get his name out there, and is always eager to try new things.

Name: Bonnibella Tallulah Sawtell, alias Bonnie Sawtell  
Gender: Female  
Age: 21  
Species: Rabbit (Breed: English Lop)  
Nationality: British-American

This rabbit has had a bad past. When she was very young, she and her sister Rosie were physically and mentally abused by their father. To escape, Bonnie ran away from home and took up residence in the branches of a tree. Luckily, when Freddy came along, her problems involving her father were solved, but not her emotional ones. Bonnie is grouchy, unwelcoming and is always tired - but she doesn't do anything about it. Instead, she'll spend her days locked up inside the so-called 'Backstage', doing the majority of the band's workload on her computer. You either love her or you hate her.

She's elusive. She's angry. She's Bonnie.

Name: Chica Swanson, alias Chica  
Gender: Female  
Age: 20  
Species: Chicken  
Nationality: American

Every group has the hyper, excitable character, and this description fits Chica perfectly. She's the energy of the gang, and enjoys cooking. Her food's not bad, but it's not the... _best_. Although she can be fun to be around, Chica can sometimes cause more trouble than she means to; this can result in some awkward situations. Nonetheless, this bouncy chicken will laugh off any problems she might have!

Name: Foxy Morgan, alias Foxy  
Gender: Male  
Age: 21  
Species: Red Fox  
Nationality: British-American

Poor Foxy! He's been through quite a lot. Due to his lack of parents, Foxy became an orphan, but ended up being adopted by Chica and her mother. His childhood was spent with her, and consequently they became close friends. Later, Freddy and Bonnie came along, tasked with finding more members for their band. Instantly Chica offered to join (being an old friend of Freddy's) and Foxy took up the opportunity to practice his keyboard and piano skills. Although he had a caring home and the start of an incredible new life, Foxy began to develop terrible anxiety. It's always affecting him, but he's trying his best! He's also quite introverted - however that doesn't mean he's not kind and softhearted. Once he opens up a bit, Foxy is the nicest animal you'll ever meet.

Name: Goldie O'Bryan, alias Goldie  
Gender: Male  
Age: 22  
Species: Bear  
Nationality: American

Goldie's your typical country loving man! With his heavy southern accent and signature chuckle, he is easily recognisable. His chunky build can cause a few sticky situations, especially in tight spaces, but if you do something wrong he'll always be ready to wrap his arms around you and give you a tight hug from a kind heart!

Name: Rosie Sawtell, alias Rosie  
Gender: Female  
Age: 23  
Species: Rabbit (Breed: Dwarf Lop)  
Nationality: British-American

If you're in need of some thoughtful words, you'd better seek out Rosie! Although she shared an unpleasant past with her sister, she enjoys comforting others and likes lending a compassionate paw out to anyone in trouble! As she is often found outdoors, this tortoiseshell lop will frequently return to the old pizzeria with plant debris in her fur. While lying in the grass, Rosie has a tendency to daydream about nature. She's also fond of poetry.


	3. Prologue

It was getting on into evening that day, which signalled the start of the Ursine Hills school prom. The setting was seemingly perfect, but a brown bear named Freddy Fazbear was pacing up and down in the room behind the main hall's stage.  
"C'mon, Freddy, you can do this," he attempted to encourage himself, however the sensation of his palms becoming sweaty quickly established that his words weren't working. The bear knew he couldn't admit defeat – he had an entire grade of students to perform to, and despite it coming to the end of the school year, Freddy would never hear the end of it if he messed up.

He spotted his microphone lying next to him on the bench he was slumped on. Picking it up, he slowly turned it in both of his paws and eventually ended up staring into space. Normally, he was never like this; when he'd first made the arrangement to perform at the prom with the head of music at Ursine, Freddy had been a bubbling pot of excitement. Finally, after all the years of his father droning on about architecture and engineering, he would be taking his much-cherished career path yet another step further. But now that joy had faded with the nervousness of the present. The brown bear didn't want to feel this way about something that brought him such happiness; surely there was a way to refill his motivation? He struggled with his thoughts for a while longer before remembering something his mother had told him: _"Retrace the steps of your thinking, and you'll find the cause of your worries."_ Her words echoed in his mind. That was it! Freddy closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, trying to immerse himself in what he had been thinking about earlier in the day, and the problem appeared to him so clearly that he scolded himself for having disregarded it at all.

There was a manager–a music manager—coming to observe his performance.

And the worst part was that the bear had no idea what he looked like or where he was going to be.

"Breathe, Freddy...you'll have to face worse than this if we're gonna become famous."

The latter looked up instantly and his eyes landed on a black figure standing near the doorway to the backstage room. "Hernandez! Don't do that!" He gave a nervous laugh as the stallion approached. "You got your guitar?"

"You're worrying, aren't you?" His musical partner ignored Freddy's question.

The bear sighed. "What if I—we—mess up? This is important, Hern!"

"We're not _going_ to mess up. We've practiced for this moment for a year. Honestly, Freddy. Are you even hearing me?"

Something about Hernandez's words calmed the brown bear's nerves, and he wanted to believe the horse. Once more he took a deep breath and then stood up from his seat, taking the microphone with him. "I guess you're right. What's the time?" he added, glancing around for a clock.

"We've got five minutes," Hernandez responded.

"Alright then. Let's go." The pair strode out of the room, with Freddy finding a new burst of courage in his steps as he followed the black horse.

As they passed other members of their grade during their walk through the rest of the backstage area, a yellow blur caught the bear's eye. He didn't have time to look closer to see who it was, for it was only a few seconds later that the former was engulfing him in a suffocating hug.

"Freddy!" He looked down to see one of his close friends Chica, wrapping both of her short arms around his waist as she grinned up at him. "I knew you'd come out! Are you excited?"

"I've gotta say, Chi, it's kinda nerve-wracking," he confessed. "But I've got Hern for that." The latter had stopped and was looking back at his companion and the chicken now wrapped around him.

"Oh! Yes!" She released Freddy, much to the bear's relief, and ran over to Hernandez instead. "How's it going?"

"Good," the stallion informed her, rather bluntly. Chica just kept on beaming at him.

"Is your guitar alright? D'ya wanna do one more test run? How about I—"

"Chi," the brown bear started, "we've gotta be up there in under five! We're gonna be fine!" He looked over to Hernandez, whose mouth curved up in a small smile as he nodded in approval of Freddy's new attitude towards the impending performance.

"Okay! I didn't realise! Sorry, kinda slips your mind, ya know?"

He returned her hug at long last, but it was not near as bone-crushing as the latter's. "You get in that audience," he told her with a grin, and she giggled and raced off out of the room.

"Thank God that's over," the black horse said with a snort. He looked behind him, and Freddy followed his gaze to a large clock on the wall. "We're on."

The two received encouraging looks from their fellow backstage 12th graders as they made their way through the maze of chairs and props to the curtain that hid their audience. Breathing beginning to quicken, the brown bear clutched his microphone harder. He felt his air of confidence beginning to disappear, but as if to counter this his friend's words repeated over and over in his head. _"We're not_ going _to mess up. We've been practicing for over a year." You're right, Hern,_ Freddy told himself. _We've got this._ And when his paw touched fabric, he believed it even more. He pushed outwards, and the curtain gave way to the soft blue light of the main hall. Around a hundred students were looking up expectantly at the stage.

Freddy walked over to the microphone stand, his head held high. Carefully he inserted his microphone into its holder before looking up to address his audience.

"Thank you all for coming here tonight!" His attention wavered for a few seconds as he noticed Chica, standing at the back with a wide grin on her face and doing a thumbs-up. Her smile caused him to do the same. "We have two songs lined up for you, so I wanna see you all dancing and partying hard!" On cue, the animals on the ground cheered, some throwing things into the air in celebration, others whooping and hollering. Not long after they had died down, the backing track to a well-known tune began to play and Freddy readied himself for his vocal entrance.

The music quietened and he poured emotion into his words as he sang, yielding yet more applause and cheers from the crowd. He took a moment to look at the students below him, dancing with their partners to the music. The chicken at the back of the room was moving as if she was the only one in the room, doing some moves that Freddy had never seen or thought possible before. His fans' energy and enthusiasm fuelled the bear and he found himself singing harder than ever, matching his voice to every note and pitch. A reverberating sound rang through his ears and Freddy realised that Hernandez had begun to play. It certainly made for an impressive riff, even after all those years of practicing and creating new songs to play. Both of their parts in the song matched perfectly; it was obvious to the bear that his companion had talent. He just hoped that the music manager, wherever he was right now, recognised that.

Eventually, after choruses and verses of strong vocals and guitar playing, the first song was coming to an end. Freddy saw the song out with one final line of passion, and then the crowd clapped endearingly. Grinning with emotion, he bowed, but he still couldn't get the presence of the manager off of his mind. Nonetheless though, he made himself shrug it off and told himself to perform to the best of his ability for their final song of the evening.  
Another backing track took the brown bear by surprise; he had been lost in thought again. As if nothing had happened however, Freddy straightened himself and stared into the cluster of prom-goers that filled the main hall. Over the top of the start of the track, Freddy thanked them for their support, and then took in a deep breath in preparation for his next part.

The pre-recorded drums faded, and Hernandez began to play softly, but the bear didn't look over, for it would spoil the effect. F note, G note, A minor...all perfectly chosen to be played in succession of one another in the song. Behind the horse's guitar playing, the drums started up again for short intervals, adding atmosphere to the hall as its occupants continued to dance. The stallion guitarist repeated the combination of notes once again, and then Freddy began, filling his speech with as much thought and care as before. His tone matched the sombre mood of the song, and he felt pleased with himself. The night was going just as Hernandez had said it would. Flawlessly.

Abruptly the song's disposition was broken by shouts and yells from the animals below the stage, and the bear's voice faltered as his eyes flitted from side to side in confusion. His head did the same. What was going on? Freddy's distress built up as what was probably the entire 12th grade erupted into chaos. In desperation, he scanned the room rapidly for Chica—and then his eyes landed on her. She too looked mortified, and one of her short arms was raised to point to Freddy's left. The chicken was shouting at him, and then he turned.

On the stage next to him lay the horse, motionless. The brown bear gasped as he saw his friend's guitar on the ground not far away from its owner. Immediately Freddy threw the microphone stand away from himself and rushed to Hermenaz's side, breathing heavily.  
"Hern? Hern!" He shook the stallion's body. "HERNANDEZ! Can you hear me?!"

The horse didn't answer. Anguish flooded the bear, but then Freddy noticed he was still breathing. He persisted. "Hernandez! Say something!" When his guitarist didn't respond, he looked around frantically for some source of help. "Someone, please! HELP!" Freddy buried his face in his paws.

Then the yellow chicken was at his side, phone in her hand. "It's gonna be okay, Freddy," she reassured him, but the brown bear was far beyond any comforting words that she were to give to him. "I'm calling an ambulance now...uhh...hello?" Chica had turned her attention to the phone operator.

Freddy tugged at Hernandez's jacket, all sense of pride and joy from the performance gone. Through stuttering speech, he whispered to the fallen horse, his voice cracking as he did so.  
"Hern...I-I'm sorry..."

The clock in the hospital's waiting room showed 21:05 pm. In a chair, overcome with grief, sat the brown bear, clutching his shirt in an ever-loosening grip. It had been two hours and the nurses and doctors had given him no update on his friend. At seven 'o clock the ambulance had arrived to take the black stallion away, and he had been pronounced unconscious at the scene, but Freddy was still clueless as to his condition at present. Again he threw his head into his paws, sliding them down his face as if it were a way of comforting himself.

"Fred..."

He looked up momentarily to see Chica looking at him with concern etched into her normally happy face. That was another thing that added to his pain—nobody was acting as they usually would tonight; yet one more reminder of the dire situation he and Chica had found themselves in. "I can't...I don't understand how it all went wrong," he vented to the hen beside him. "What happened? Why...?"

"He...his...they said that his guitar wasn't grounded properly...I don't know what that means."

"He got electrocuted," Freddy replied, finding it hard to even speak to Chica at that moment. "His guitar...it wasn't earthed. The current just travelled straight through him..." he gulped.

At that moment both animals heard a sob, coming from the direction of the room Hernandez was in. He figured that it have been the horse's parents, as they had arrived as soon as they had heard the news. And if they were sobbing...the brown bear imagined the worst and he felt his eyes prick with tears. He couldn't be...he couldn't...

Chica wrapped her arms around him—but this time it was out of sorrow for her good friend. Together they sat, hunched, on the seats of the hospital waiting room, until the yellow-feathered hen pulled back, wiping her own eyes. Her phone had lit up and she pulled it out, checked it, and looked at the bear solemnly.

"I...have to go. Mum wants me." She arose from her seat and leant down to give him a kiss on the cheek. It would have meant something if he hadn't been so overcome with despair. With one final wave goodbye, Chica exited the room, leaving Freddy by himself on what suddenly became an overly hard seat. It was almost painful now that she had gone; she had been something to cushion the impact of reality, even if just a little. He could no longer hold back his tears and he began to cry.

The brown bear felt a paw on his shoulder. "Frederick? Freddy Fazbear, correct?"

The bear looked up to see a taller male bear standing over him. At first he thought it was his father, but then remembered that the latter wouldn't arrive and question his son's name. Forcing himself to squint through his tears, Freddy strained his eyes and made out that this bear had a beard and aged-looking features.

"T-That's me."

"Hello, then, Freddy, you won't know me. I'm the music executive of Rockthunder Records. I presume you were told."

The brown bear just stared up at him. This was the music manager? "Uh...yes."

"I've been to see your friend. They told me to pass the news on to you. I'm terribly sorry, Frederick; this will be hard to hear, but I'm afraid Mr. Marguilles is in a coma."

"I...I..." Freddy couldn't speak.

"It's alright. You don't have to talk, just listen." The older male put a paw on his shoulder. "Freddy, I know it's difficult to experience this. He was a good musician. But I see a lot of potential in you also."

All of the enthusiasm he should have had at the manager's words was gone, and all he could think of was Hernandez. His partner. His partner that should be awake now to hear the words being spoken to Freddy. The bear groaned and sniffed again, wiping his eyes ungracefully on his arm. He looked up to see the head of Rockthunder Records staring down at him. Was that sorrow in his eyes? Whatever it was that was there seemed to be veiled by something else, something that the brown bear couldn't quite identify. The older bear towering over him bent down and patted the smaller aspiring singer on the back.

"I'm so sorry...Mr. Manager, sir...He was supposed to be with me to hear this..."

The older male let out a breath. "It is truly unfortunate. I too am sorry that this has happened." For a brief moment Freddy saw his gaze flicker over to the slightly-ajar door of the black stallion's room. "But, no matter how hard it may be, you must get through this."  
He held out his free paw. "Which is why I want to offer you something. Mr. Fazbear, I would love to become your manager. You could become a star—under my guidance. You don't have to accept, but I know it would take your career further."

The bear stared at the manager. He almost couldn't believe what he was saying. A star?! Him?! The light from the doorway to Hernandez's room shone out into the waiting area. "But...but...Hernandez..."

"Freddy, there's nothing we can do. I'm sure he'll come around. I'll even be the first one to let you know when he does."

It was such a hard choice to make, Freddy thought. To leave his friend behind—the friend he had been with for years, who he had known and bonded with, all left behind for a new career in the very area that the comatose stallion would have—should have—been with the brown bear to experience. Inside, he was broken—to wait so long for this moment, only to have his happiness ripped away from him in the wake of a catastrophe. Freddy sighed, trying to hold back yet more tears. Perhaps, he thought with the biggest ache in his heart, the band manager was right; he would have to get over this. Hernandez would wake up, the bear reasoned, he was in the care of professionals now. And this was his opportunity. He knew that this was probably going to be his only chance. _I'll make you proud, Hern._

Breathing out shakily and sending a silent apology to his dear friend, Freddy began to nod. "Okay," he breathed. "I accept."


	4. ACT ONE Chapter 1

Rain was falling heavily outside. Blackened masses of clouds obscured the moon that was attempting to cast its cold rays onto the surroundings. Thunder periodically boomed from the heavens and an underlying crackle of lightning was present, spreading a chill up the spines of the inhabitants of the psychiatric hospital. The structure was tall and menacing against the equally sinister sky; concrete walls rose to intimidate passers-by and any being that was unlucky enough to have the misfortune of hurrying past next to them.

The interior of the building was no different. Unkempt walls and floors were common, and the halls were littered with locked doors that seemed to send one message – keep away.

However, some disfavoured citizens were lumbered with the task of keeping the patients as civilised as possible, and the figure that was ambling heavy-footedly down Corridor B was inconvenienced with just that.

His breath came in rasps as he trudged along, the zips on his coat jingling ominously in the relatively silent hospital. In his paw was something needle-shaped, but the darkness made it hard to tell exactly what it was. The blatant lack of light in the corridor was problematic; the only source of it came from a couple of small windows near the ceiling where the pathetic moonlight wavered in for a few seconds before being concealed by the clouds once more. Despite this, the individual appeared to prefer keep to the plentiful shadows in the hallway; it was as if any form of light was a creeping disease that would seize any living being that happened to walk into its masquerading path.

A biting coldness grasped the figure and he clutched his body to keep it away. He had seen his destination at the end of the corridor and was partly glad – the sooner he was out of this abhorrent stretch, the better. He picked up the pace until his feet were fixed to the ground in front of the grey door and by this point he had raised a paw to rap on its surface. It was freezing to the touch; yet another unwelcome sensation.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The only response, muffled by the thick walls of the room, was a moan and it wasn't much—but this was all the figure needed. Taking it as an invitation, he turned the doorknob and pushed the door inwards before stepping inside.

The rectangular hole where the door had once rested was now wide open to reveal a room that was as dark as the hallway that he had previously traversed, if not dingier. Another small window had been built into the top of the opposite wall, its bars only allowing thin slivers of light to filter in. The corners of the undesirable living space were once again victims of menacing shadow; this new dwelling seemed similar from the other corridor. The figure turned towards another being who was hunched over—they looked up when he approached and their green eyes showed utmost fear in the partial dark. Light from the barred window revealed that this new creature was a very terrified-looking canine: the moon was just strong enough to outline a pointed ear and a long, tapering snout.

"Get comfortable." The first animal discreetly shut the metallic door behind him. In the far corner of the room, the canine whimpered, clearly wanting to hide himself in the shadows, but his efforts were futile. The figure who had just entered the room snarled, teeth bared threateningly in the cold moonlight. At once, the other animal seemed to obey his apparent superior's unspoken order, and, quivering, picked his way across the stone floor to kneel at his feet. Narrowing his eyes, the former slouched down onto a bench that was equally as freezing as the floor. One of his paws uncurled to display what he had been carrying back in the hallway: an extensive, tapering syringe, the chamber of which was filled with an unknown liquid.

"You know the drill. Keep still, you little coward," the hound's comrade snarled. The latter complied instantly, terrified of what his master would do if he failed to comply with the instruction. He reluctantly raised an arm and held it in the air, still shaking, whilst the other animal injected the aforementioned fluid into it. Almost immediately after, the canine begun to twitch and convulse—but its dark watchman remained seated on the bench, staring at it with a half-lidded amber gaze. This was becoming a regular event; hence why these movements failed to raise any concern or alarm. Instead, he uttered a single word after the movements had ceased: "Speak."

In a speech ridden with stutters, the other figure began. "There's...s-someone..."

"Go on..."

"He's down there...h-he's down there!"

"Who?"

"The...the...the fisherman! He...he...argh!...w-wanted my soul. I told him: "No, no! G-get away from me!" But he offered me something...something I needed...something..." The canine broke off for a moment, attempting to calm himself and regain his breath before settling into a more hunched position. "Oh! Ohhh..." He was taken by a frenzy, and fell to the floor, twitching and writhing. The figure on the bench raised a paw and, his anger burning through his veins, brought it down upon the hound's cheek, yielding a screech of pain.

"Up, maggot! Get your pathetic body up!"

The canine raised his head feebly, eyes glinting with impending tears. At this, the other man frowned, which quickly sent the other individual back into his previous kneeling position. "Now," he uttered through gritted teeth, "may we continue?"

Through chattering teeth that the former was obviously trying extremely hard to conceal, the recount proceeded. "T-There was...s-something about that...f-fisherman...he...almost made me want to...give my soul up to him...a-and...I almost accepted...but then he...he...tricked me!"

The other animal has been staring intently with furrowed brows, which had been raised by the other's words. "And how did this...fisherman...trick you?"

"I-I realised—forgive my stupidity, sir—that he...he wasn't going to give me...anything! N-Nothing at all! My soul was...it was all he wanted...I think. S-Somehow...agh...I don't like to remember...I managed to g-get away from that t-terrible place...but then...he started coming. He comes to me...he-he's in my dreams now...coming closer...closer every d-day..."

Abruptly the canine gained a panicked demeanour. "He...he...he can't get in...please say he can't...I'm...I-I'm..."

Footsteps sounded in the corridor—the first dark figure perked his ears. It was then that he decided that whatever else that his skittish companion had left to say must be made quick. "And you're sure of this?"

"Y-Yes...sir! I-It's..." Once more, he shook violently under the influence of the liquid from the syringe. "...it's under...the old...ack!...food...p-place!"

Whoever was in the corridor outside had arrived. A brief knock alerted the room's occupants of the former's presence, to which the figure answered, "Come in."

The door was pushed open to reveal a cheetah: her deep blue eyes scanned the room until her gaze was intercepted by the canine's shape.

"Oh, would you like to come with me, sweetie?"

At her words, the hound let out a quiet but relieved breath and staggered over to the cat, trying to steady himself as he went. Before the pair's departure, his feline guide turned to the figure.

"Thank you for looking after him. I'd make it about—" she checked her watch, "—your finishing time! Here, I'll leave the door open so that you can go on home."

With a final nod of gratitude and some rapid breaths from the canine, the cheetah receded back down the hallway until both animals were no longer in the line of sight. And once this was the case, the figure reached down into one of his pockets to pull out a phone. His fingers worked rapidly to dial a number, and after some repetitive rings somebody on the other side picked up.

He cleared his throat.

"Yes, it's true."


	5. ACT ONE Chapter 2

Ah, Smalltown: aptly named, as it would appear to an outsider. There was indeed nothing structurally ironic about it, but what it lacked in size it made up for in personality.

By this, we are referring to the residents: a jovial, bouncy and close lot who wouldn't let anyone into their town without the warmest of welcomes beforehand. Some would feel right at home with these sorts of people, some wouldn't—but the only thing that mattered to the inhabitants was each other. Daily, the town would seem so alive and would almost be bouncing from the gargantuan amount of companionship.

That didn't change depending on the time of day, either. At present, night had fallen and the majority of the anthropomorphic animals had taken to cooking or ordering food for their evening meals. And in a long, somewhat decrepit building over by the train tracks, an animal was attempting to do exactly that.

"Yeah! We want a pizza! There's...uhhh...I think there's seven of us? That's...probably right! Yeah. Pizza for seven!" Triumphantly, the hen's yellow paw returned the main phone to its holder; but before she could perform a victory dance, something alarming came to her mind. She hadn't told the phone operator where to deliver the pizza to!

Aiming to reverse this error, she dived for the handset and, losing grip of it in her hurry, was forced to erratically jerk around in an attempt to regain control of the latter. Soon, though, the chicken once again had hold of the phone and was dialling the pizza place's delivery line. After a few ominous buzzing tones, the operator's droning, nonchalant voice sounded. "Hello, this is Eddie's, how can we help you..."

"Uh, hi! It's me from earlier! Ya know? The one who wanted the pizza for seven?"

"Oh, you. I was wondering if you'd call back."

The hen giggled, a sound tinged with nervousness. "Ah, hehe, yeah...about that. I forgot to tell you where we all live! Sorry!"

With a light-hearted chuckle, she returned the phone to its holder once more. She had begun to march out of the room with a look of utmost pride on her face, only to be stopped in her tracks by the blaring, interrupting ring of the phone she had left behind. Confused, back she went to the handset, and upon answering she once again heard the operator's voice - noticeably more irritated than before.

"Hello?"

"Do you want this pizza or not? I need the address of where you live!"

"Oh...oh! Heheh...sorry! Um, yeah, you know that big old building by the train tracks? That place that used to be an old pizzeria? Yeah, that's where we live! And it's not half as bad as it sounds! It's so cosy, especially at night, and the sound of the train makes me feel like a young chick again-"

"Is this a prank call?" The operator's voice cut into her vivid explanation.

"Uhhhh...I don't know."

"You think I'm going to deliver pizza to an old pizzeria? This is a prank call, isn't it? Nobody lives there anymore! This is absurd. Goodbye." A long beep signalled that he had hung up.

The chicken stood for a little less than a minute, seemingly staring through the phone as if she were seeing something beyond it. Then, to herself, she queried,

"Umm...so, is the pizza coming now?"

"Chica…are you sure it's coming? I mean, we've been waiting for at least an hour now…"

The chicken and her friends had been sitting around a large circular table in the largest room in the pizzeria ever since the phone operator had ended the call. Everyone was beginning to grow impatient and Freddy, sitting next to the hen and drumming his fingers on the table, spoke now to voice his concern. Chica looked at the brown bear: an animal with a kind heart and a positive, tenacious mindset; a leader. He'd been born a Fazbear, one of the most diligent and wealthy families in Smalltown that the chicken knew of. And this status wasn't the only thing that the bear possessed – he was the singer in their variety band, too.

To Freddy's right sat Foxy Morgan, the most reserved and nervous of them all. In their band, he played both keyboard and piano. Currently, however, the red fox was huddled with his arms hugging his body, eyes darting from side to side as if something threatened him. There was, of course, nothing to do such a thing, but Chica did feel incredibly sorry for him. After all, she'd been there when he'd first arrived at her and her mother's house as a foster child, shivering and wide-eyed. The chicken had been there with the fox every day since, and gradually the two had formed a tight bond. She was always the one who he confided in at times when his anxiety peaked. A warm rush of fulfilment spread through her, and the hen beamed.

She returned her attention to surveying her friends and opposite her on the curved seat was Goldie O' Bryan, boasting his trademark smile. The large and somewhat short bear had been one of Freddy's first and closest friends, and he wore a blue checkered shirt and tie with baggy and tattered navy trousers. Topping his attire was a woven straw hat; it was almost never seen anywhere else than on top of his head. Goldie was, as his name suggested, the colour of a field of barley (which is also where he liked to go on a warm afternoon). Chica wasn't too sure if it was a coincidence or not, but the fact that he loved warm places lined up exactly with his personality. Not only was he incredibly welcoming towards anyone; he was responsible, caring and paternal, characteristics that anyone could call comradely.

Perched next to the bulky golden bear was his significant other, Rosie.

She'd been so wrapped up in her thoughts that the chicken realised that Freddy still lacked her reply.  
"Well, yeah, Fred! Don't be a nonbeliever!" As if to make up for her poor attentiveness, Chica playfully elbowed him with a giggle.  
"Well, I don't know if I'm gonna be able to wait any longer…" A loud, somewhat obnoxious rumble roared from his stomach, and he grinned apologetically. "Hah, sorry guys!" The following silence caused him to question his friends. "Guys?"

"Um…" Foxy's tail swished fretfully back and forth as his ears lowered. "I'm…um…I'm a bit hungry, too…" Chica couldn't help but feel as if she was disappointing him. With the rest of her friends, she didn't really bat an eyelid, but with the fearful red fox it was hard to brush off his emotions. Something about his nervousness made the chicken want to resolve any errors she had made and, frankly, his manner made her heart melt.

"Hmm…y'know, I think I'm gonna go look out the door and see if I can see anyone." The hen heaved herself up from her seat – rather regretfully – and ambled clumsily to the front door of the old building. With a groan, she used her entire body to push the opaque glass entrance open, before observing the small parking lot outside. The only sounds on the warm night were the trees to her left rustling discreetly in the breeze, and somewhere far off a vehicle rumbled down a road. Chica pouted upon noticing the absence of car headlights: a tell-tale sign of a pizza delivery. Begrudgingly, she hauled the doors shut and returned to her chair, where her friends' faces held a hint of hope. As soon as they saw her face, however, all trace of this was gone. This only made the chicken even gloomier; she hated seeing anyone who looked dissatisfied.

"It's not coming, is it?" Freddy's expression told her that he had known he'd been right all along.

"I guess not…" Sighing, the hen rested her head in her paws, furrowing her brows. She needed to do something!

And then, instantly, the solution hit her as if the phone operator from earlier had hurled some pizza dough. "Hey, I know! Why don't I make something for all of us instead? Y'know, since I am _chef le supreme_."

"Do us a favour and just order something else." A statement edged with utmost contempt stopped Chica in her tracks. Beaming in recognition, she turned towards its source and ran, launching herself onto the figure emerging from a dark doorway on the opposite side of the main room.  
"Bonnie! Yay!"

"Get off of me, you poultry disaster." The purple English lop snarled, brushing the chicken off with a look of disgust. Chica, however, wasn't fazed by Bonnie's grouchy actions, and instead grabbed one of the rabbit's paws to pull her towards the others.  
"I'm gonna cook for everyone! I bet you can't wait! My food is always _so_ good."

Startled by the hen's sudden action, Bonnie let out a half-shriek half-growl and stumbled, but took immediate action to right herself before she could look ridiculous. "It most certainly isn't," she spat in return. Despite the rabbit's blatantly nonchalant and grumpy attitude, Chica considered Bonnie as her best friend. When they'd first met, the doe's rude comments and retorts had hurt the chicken considerably, but thanks to her bouncy and resilient nature, she had learnt to laugh them off and have a good time. "Oh, you know it is," Chica teased her. "Come on and sit down! Look, your boyfriend's here too!" She gestured to Freddy, who rotated with a loving smile so that he could see the rabbit.

Grumbling, the hen's best friend shuffled over, back hunched and arms folded. Bonnie took a seat next to the brown bear, who wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close to him. Chica made a sound of adoration that yielded a groan from the rabbit; nevertheless, the chicken chortled and slid into the empty seat next to Foxy. "Sooo…what do we all want tonight?" She stretched out both of her short arms across the table and rested her head between them, wide eyes flicking from friend to friend expectantly.

Freddy was the first to answer. "Well," he said, his voice taking on a complementary tone, "you're the best cook we have, so I only think it's right that you choose the dish. Right, Bonnie, Foxy?"

Foxy nodded and flashed a small smile at Chica, whilst Bonnie just grumbled something that Chica failed to make out. The chicken was unfazed by this and heaved herself up from her position on the curved seat once again, this time to embark on her journey to the kitchen. Just before she reached the start of the corridor leading to her destination, Chica spun around dramatically to face her friends, arms raised above her head in what she thought was a threatening manner.  
"Very well, fellow travellers," the hen began, her voice taking on a more whimsical and animated tone. "You have selected the path of _Chica-chooses-what-we-eat-tonight_." Suddenly her face became grave. "But you shall then face the consequences, whatever they may be…" With that, she dashed off into the darkness of the corridor, cackling as she went.

"That was…revolting."

Bonnie gingerly placed her knife and fork onto her plate – in a neat way despite her disgust. Chica watched as the rabbit pushed what remained of her portion of mashed potato into the centre of the table, drawing her paws back as if the plate harboured some sort of mould. Looking around at the others, the chicken noticed that Freddy didn't look too pleased (although he seemed to be trying to hide his discomfort), Foxy was nervously staring at his half-finished meal, and Bonnie was now slouched over the table with her head in her paws. Chica didn't quite know what to make of the situation, regardless of the fact that she was, quite frankly, used to it by now.  
"Sooooo…how was it?" She attempted to lighten the mood. At once, Freddy sat up straight in his chair and grinned at her, eyes wide.

"It was…great! Yeah! Awesome work once again, Chica!"

"Thanks, Fred!" The hen returned his smile; Foxy did the same.

"Um…thank you for the meal Chica…it was really nice…" the nervous fox stuttered, earning another sympathetic wave of emotion from the chicken.

"No problem! You know I love cooking for all of ya!" Chica reclined in her seat. "Oh my god, I could literally sleep for, like, a thousand years now," she drawled, opening her mouth in an exaggerated yawn.

"Cover your mouth like a civilised animal," the purple rabbit opposite her spat, head still remaining in her paws.

"Yeah, but…I don't get why we've all gotta do that? Don't ya wanna see my beautiful mouth?"

" _Nobody_ wants to see your 'beautiful' mouth, Chica."

The hen pretended to take offense, scrunching her face up into an angered expression. "How dare you insult my magnificent mouth? Go on. Say sorry. Bow down. Now."

To her left she could sense Foxy smiling, and Freddy was eyeing Bonnie with amusement present in his gaze.

"I can't understand you, Chica," Bonnie griped.

"Hang on there," Freddy interrupted, leaning across the circular table to better interact with the chicken. " _I_ respect that wonderful maw of yours, Chi," he told her, casting a mock look of disgust at his girlfriend next to him.

"Why, thank you Freddy." The now content hen surveyed her comrades, remembering how much she appreciated their friendship with the utmost joy and joviality despite her tiredness; her energy was something she never seemed to lose. Although they had their differences, Chica was extremely grateful for a group whose companionship would certainly not be broken by even the greatest of things.  
"I love you guys."


	6. ACT ONE Chapter 3

"Alright! Up and at 'em, guys!"

Chica was the first to come thundering in to the main room of the old pizzeria at Freddy's call, clearly excited for what he had in store. She skidded to an awkward halt beside the bear, just as Foxy came shuffling in with his arms hugging his body in his usual posture. Lastly, there was a profound _thump_ coming from the direction of the same small dark door from the previous day, and Bonnie begrudgingly slouched into the main area of the building with a guitar under one arm.

"Who's ready for band practice?" Freddy continued. The chicken next to him squealed, preparing herself for an over-exaggerated jump onto the wide wooden stage behind the group. He watched, smiling at her enthusiasm, as she took a seat behind a large drum kit and picked up the matching drumsticks that had been lying on top of one of the drums.  
"You know I am! Come on, Foxy!"

The red fox in question clambered up onto the stage with considerably more precision than Chica. He walked over to a keyboard and sat in his place at its rear, waiting for instructions, but Freddy noticed him tensely glancing at the purple rabbit that remained on the floor. The bear understood that she seemed to be making him anxious for whatever reason, so he supposed it would be a good idea to intervene.  
"Bon, why don't you join the others up there?"

She turned to face him with a tired expression. "No, I'll be perfectly fine down here, thank you."

"O-Okay!" He held up his arms in a mock-defensive position, despite accepting her choice. "Well anyway," he spoke to all of the band members, "today, we're gonna be rehearsing what we've already got because-"

" _Concerttt!_ " Chica's ecstatic interruption caused Foxy to let out a small laugh.

The chicken was right. "Correct, Chi! As all of you know, our final concert's coming up in a week, so we've gotta be ready! That crowd is gonna be expecting big things from us, so we've got to make sure they see the Fazbear Four shine!" With the yellow hen in the corner looking as if she were about to burst with excitement, Freddy made his way over to a large stereo situated in the left corner of the stage after hauling himself up onto the platform. From the top of the stereo he retrieved a microphone and connected it to its stand at the front of the stage. "Alright, guys! Are you ready? Let's go!" Hurriedly he rushed over to the stereo once more and pressed a button on its exterior, at which a pre-recorded backing track began playing. The brown bear saw Chica poise herself to play as he manoeuvred around the different instruments, and noticed Foxy's paws dangle over the keyboard in anticipation. Bonnie, down below, did not move or change the indifferent look on her face. but he knew that she'd start to play as well as ever once it was time.

The background music reached a certain point and automatically the chicken to Freddy's left began to beat the drums in a pattern unique only to their song. Although it seemed as if the skins on the drums would give way at any moment thanks to her enthusiastic pounding, they stayed firm and taut. He appreciated just how energetic the hen was, despite the fact that it could often be a little overpowering.  
Focusing back on their practice session, the bear watched as Foxy chimed into Chica's drumbeats with an ominous-sounding melody. Together, the two tunes sounded fit for each other, resulting in a sense that something larger was to come later on in the piece. Indeed this was true, and as Freddy heard the two separate sounds come to a slow end, he knew that his vocal entrance was approaching.  
Silence.  
The first notes of a long anticipated guitar riff cut into the stillness and the drums immediately started up again in its wake. It was extremely loud and prevailing, filling the bear with empowerment. The sound quietened a little and the bear put all his intent into forming strong words. He took a deep breath, and—

 _Snap._

"Goddammit!"

Freddy looked over to where the enraged voice had come from. Bonnie was standing below, a look of absolute fury etched into her face. Her guitar lay in her paws, and the brown bear noticed that one of its strings was curled up into the air.

"The bloody string snapped! Ugh! Why me?" she growled.

"Hey, Bon, it's okay," Freddy attempted to cool her temper.

"No! It's never okay! Every single damn time we do one of these 'band practices', something always goes wrong, and it's always me! Always!"

A moan could be heard, coming from the direction of the keyboard. The bear looked up to see Foxy with his paws over his ears, his mouth and eyes screwed up.

Freddy turned back to Bonnie. "Please calm down, babe…"

"No! Nobody cares that it's always me!"

Chica had moved from her place at the drums and had gone over to the fox. She seemed to be attempting to calm his anxiety due to Bonnie's anger. The orange animal was shivering now, despite Chica's arms being on his shoulders, and the brown bear couldn't help but feel sorry for him. It was true that he loved Bonnie very much, but her irritability caused more problems than it solved.

"Bonnie! Stop! You're scaring Foxy!" Chica pleaded. Foxy's face couldn't be seen as he had it hidden behind his coat sleeves, and he appeared to be shaking even more. Freddy didn't know what to do. Once the band's guitarist got angry, it was almost impossible to calm her down until she'd somehow done so herself. And, the bear recalled, that usually meant her returning to the one place she seemed most docile: the so-called 'Backstage'. It was a small and dingy room, full of boxes and shelves that held junk items.

The doe below the stage snarled. Freddy let out a gasp as she raised her arms to show long, tapering claws, almost as clean and white as the fur on her muzzle. Bonnie brought one paw down, straight onto the top of her guitar.  
It made a pained noise and skittered across the floor some way before stopping, and its assailant stormed off towards the Backstage. The door slammed and the brown bear was left stunned.

The red fox next to Chica slowly raised his head, his shivers becoming less apparent. "I-Is…she…g-gone?"

Chica softened her look, which had become uncharacteristically twisted into a frown from observing Bonnie's tantrum. "Yeah, she's in the Backstage now. It's alright," the chicken soothed.

"C-Can we still…um…c-continue without…h-her…?"

"Well, I think so," Freddy decided. "I mean, we could just have a look at some lyrics."

"Sounds like a plan!" The hen beside Foxy brightened instantly, racing over towards the table they had all been sitting around the previous evening (known to the group as the Conference Corner). After a few seconds the orange fox rose from his seat at his keyboard and walked over to her, arms hugging his body. Freddy cast a glance over to the Backstage, worry filling his gaze, but he turned his attention back to his bandmates and soon joined them over in the Corner.


	7. ACT ONE Chapter 4

It was cold outside that day, hence to why Freddy had chosen to do band practice indoors. Although one would say it was unlike Texas to have cold weather, Smalltown always seemed to attract such conditions. Some residents believed that its abundance was nature's way of saying that the town was way past its prime.  
The wind picked up, rattling through the trees bordering the ditch containing the railway tracks. A few leaves were unlucky enough to be parted from their branches by the gradual onset, fluttering pitifully to the ground in what could have been an attempt to encourage others to believe in what the township had left – if anything. Some blew into the ditch, and whilst there was no sign of any trains on the tracks, something else was.

A figure emerged, shadowed by the interior of the bridge that welcomed visitors to the town. The animal looked cautiously about him before clearing the structure, keeping to the grassy verges sloping up towards level ground. Still with hesitation, he hiked up the slope in the direction of the treeline, only to be momentarily startled by another individual.

"Hey, hey! Boss. Are ya sure this is the place?"

"Quiet, you green offense," the first figure spat, whirling round to face his comrade. "Of course I'm sure."

"Well, I don't know..." continued the other. "That, uhh, dog guy seemed kinda vague, don't ya see?"

"I know where to get my directions! Now, unless you can find anybody better, I suggest you shut that maw of yours and follow."

With an incredulous expression at such treatment, the second animal attempted to retort, but a glare from his leader stopped him at once and he regretfully admitted defeat, trailing behind the former as he made his way towards a particularly wide tree. Upon reaching it, the first individual repeated his action from earlier, looking around for something unknown. He decided that the coast was clear, and picked his way through the leaf litter and shrubbery. A couple of times, the animal's follower happened to step on a twig that would crack loudly, to which he turned around to penetrate the green figure with a glare. After a few minutes of ambling through bushes that had grown there thinking that they wouldn't be disturbed, grey light filtered in between trunks up ahead. At this, the dignitary brought his paws together, grinning as he registered the structure beyond the trees.

"What did I tell you? Look. It's the old pizzeria. As I said before, I know where to get my directions."

"Hmph. Whatever. Now that we've seen it in all its majesty," the follower next to him made quotation marks with his fingers, "can we go back? There's nothing else to do, boss."

His boss chuckled. "That's where you're wrong. In fact, you can scout the area for any possible interferences."

"What?! Boss, seriously, this ain't needed."

"Now!"

The green individual skittered away, flicking his head from side to side as if it were an obsession to check for danger as he advanced towards the building's grey-brown wall. He continued towards a window located near the set of double doors set into its exterior. Back from where he was situated next to a large tree, the leader could see his follower's ears stuck up, alerting him to any possible unwanted sounds. _For once_ , he thought with contempt, _the idiot's actually doing something useful. Just as well I don't have to do it myself._

Edging towards the window, the other animal narrowed his eyes, smiling. This was too easy. He reached out a paw so that he could slide himself along the wall to look inside the structure, still keeping watch of what had once been the car park outside. The whole area, treeline included, was located in a shallow pit where the main road sloped down into the car park. Bordering the road was a line of bushes. It really was quite vulnerable, he remarked snidely.

His paw slid over glass.

Alarmed, the green animal jerked back. He didn't want to be seen! He turned, somewhat reluctantly, to look at his leader, who wore a look of disapproval. As if to make up for his careless mistake, he approached the pane of glass more carefully this time, instead coming from the bottom, and peered inside. He couldn't see anyone. The lights were on, but there was nobody in his range of vision. Satisfied, he turned to report back to the other man when he heard the low, unmistakable hum of a car engine. Immediately his attention was fixated on the main road. Seconds later, a small car appeared – and its right indicator told him that the passengers lived here.

"Boss! Boss!" the animal whisper-screamed, fleeing to the cover of the trees. "Somebody's arriving! We gotta go!"

With an exclamation of rage, his comrade took a look for himself. Seeing that the other individual was correct, he retreated deeper into the undergrowth, taking refuge behind a wide shrub. His lackey arrived next to him and they watched as the car pulled into a space near the entrance of the building. The driver stopped the engine and got out, followed by another passenger next to him on the opposite side of the vehicle. Together they walked towards the double doors, the driver pulling out a key to unlock them. From his place behind the bush, the dignitary saw him fumble with the keys in his oversized paws, but still managed to insert them into the lock. One of the doors swung open and the driver strolled inside; however he seemed to have halted in the doorway. Looking back at the car, the first figure noticed that the other passenger was frozen in their spot, obviously looking for something. He heard the driver call the passenger's name, and they made their way inside, but not before a final glance...and it was straight in the direction of the treeline.

Instinctively, the boss ducked down, roughly grabbing the other man by the ear and pulling him to the ground alongside him. There was a gap in the bottom of the bush that he could look through and just about confirm that both animals from the car had gone inside. Despite their lucky escape, he wasn't about to take any chances. "Alright. We're clearing off. Next time, I'll think twice about taking you unless you can prove yourself."

"It wasn't my fault that the car just happened to belong to some animals that live here!"

"I don't care for your protests. Just get back down to the bridge! And this time," he added, "don't let anyone see you."

His assistant picked his way back through the undergrowth, and the first animal watched him until he vanished over the top of the ditch. He gave one last thin-eyed look at the old pizzeria, and then followed.


	8. ACT ONE Chapter 5

Freddy, Foxy and Chica were still seated in the Conference Corner when the bear heard the sound of a key in the front door lock. Getting up, he went over to it to see who was arriving.

The door opened and a figure, silhouetted against the grey sky, stood there. He was stocky, and the unmistakable shape of a straw hat told him exactly who it was.  
"Goldie! You're back!"

"Ah', Freddeh'! Glad teh' be home!" The golden bear smiled at his best friend. "Hang on a sec', Roseh' is still out by teh' car." He turned back to the doorway. "Roseh'!" Come inside!" There was a shuffle of footsteps, and then a tortoiseshell lop rabbit appeared next to Goldie.

"Oh! Hello, Freddy!" Rosie greeted him with a sweet British accent. "How are you?"

"I'm alright, thanks! I take it the visit went well?" Freddy recalled that she'd said they were going to visit Rosie's mother.

"It was really nice to see her again! Goldie had a good time too. Mum was delighted to hear about me and Goldie's plans for the future!" Rosie and Goldie had started a relationship. The brown bear thought that they were perfect for each other: both had an interest in the outdoors and a very down-to-earth personality to match.

"Where is evereh'one?" Goldie's gruff voice sounded from behind Rosie.

"Foxy and Chica are in the Conference Corner," Freddy began. "We're reading over some lyrics. And, uh..." The bear looked over to the solitary door on the left side of the room. "Bonnie's...in there." He started back towards the round table to see his other two companions, alert and expecting an answer. Chica strained her short neck around him to see, and upon realising who the arrivals were, leapt from her seat and hurtled towards them.

Freddy's bulky best friend chuckled. "Hullo, Chica! How's it goin'?"

"Awesome, as always!" She hugged him and he put an arm around her in a friendly manner. Next, she went over to Rosie and engulfed her in a tight embrace too. The tortoiseshell rabbit hugged back, clearly happy to see her friend again. "Foxy!" Freddy could hear her saying, "Goldie and Rosie are back! Come say hi!" She waited as Foxy shuffled up to the newcomers.

"H-hi...um...Goldie, um...hi, Rosie..."

"Aww, hi!" Rosie cuddled him. The golden bear next to her did the same, leaving the red fox between them to blush at the amount of attention he was suddenly receiving.

"Anyway, now that we're all together, what do we all wanna do? I mean, the lyrics can wait until later," Freddy questioned the others.

"Is Bonnie okay?" The lop rabbit next to Goldie wore an expression that was enlaced with concern. "I want to see my sister."

Instantly the mood in the room seemed to darken: Foxy gained a panicked look whilst Chica cringed slightly.

"Uhhh...well..."

Rosie sighed in exasperation, yet there was a hint of sorrow in it. "What's happened now?"

Freddy explained the events of earlier, of how the group had been practicing a song when Bonnie's guitar string had snapped; so had her temper. The younger rabbit's sister listened, and it was clear that nothing surprised her. After all, everyone in the old pizzeria knew what Bonnie's personality was like, and it never failed to show itself. Freddy had known her to be grouchy and angry ever since they had met when they were both 19.

Rosie turned towards the closed door of the Backstage. "Does...somebody wanna go and see how she's doing? Freddy? You're her boyfriend. We all know that if I can't calm her down – and I'm her sister – you can."

Freddy chuckled; an attempt to ease the tension. "Ahh, well, alright...then!" He started towards the unwelcome and somber-looking door on the opposite side of the room.

"Don't get mauled!" Chica's voice sounded behind him.

"No promises!"

The bear's paw touched cold metal as he went to enter Bonnie's 'office' (as some of them liked to call it). Silently the door opened, which wouldn't normally alert someone to the fact that they had a visitor, but a growl from deeper inside the room made it clear that the elusive rabbit had developed other ways of knowing who had come to see her. Freddy gulped. "Bonnie?"

"Get lost."

Stepping into the Backstage but doing so with caution, he crept over to his girlfriend. Boxes, a shelf behind him and a couple of filing cabinets made up most of the room, but they were hard to make out because it was dark in this area of the former restaurant, and the shadows were only broken by the light from a computer monitor at the far end of the room, left to where the bear had entered. The monitor sat atop a wooden desk and, pulled up in front of it in an office chair, was Bonnie. She hadn't even turned to look at Freddy as he'd come in. The brown bear ignored the rude order that she had instead given and went up to her until he was close enough to rest a paw on the English lop's shoulder.

"Sweetheart, why don't you come out of this dingy old place? Rosie and Goldie are back, and Rosie wants to see you."

At this, Bonnie turned to shoot a glare at Freddy, despite the conversation turning to her sibling. "Why?"

"Bon, she's your sister! She just wants to see if you're okay!"

"Yes, well. She doesn't know the half of what happened."

"Uhh, actually..."

"You told her?!"

"Babe..."

"Why do you have to tell everyone _everything_? Not everything is public information!"

"You're missing the point. I never said it _was_ public information. Rosie knew something had happened, so I told her. It's only fair that she deserves to know." Freddy stroked her forehead gently.

Bonnie groaned. "I hate this."

"No you don't," the bear soothed. "What are you even doing in here, anyway?" He bent down to look at the monitor screen.

"Don't look at what I'm doing!" She instantly covered the screen with her arms.

Freddy held up his arms defensively. "Alright, alright, sorry!"

The purple doe returned to her slouched position. She was the tallest out of Freddy and his friends, but most of the time her deliberately hunched back masked her true height. Still, even when she was slumped over it was enough to intimidate anyone. Bonnie's British-accented voice was filled with disdain as she uttered, "Better be."

"Oh, come on, my sweet! Don't be like that." He wrapped both arms around her waist and pulled her up from the chair; the bear saw her tail twitch in annoyance as she growled.

"Why do you do this?" Bonnie groaned. She reluctantly pushed the chair back to lean on her boyfriend, who smiled.

"There we go..." The brown bear kissed her cheek. "Now, come here. Let's go see the others!" Freddy kept one of his arms around the rabbit's waist as they moved back towards the door. When they finally got back out into the lighter part of their home, he saw that Chica's eyes were widened and Foxy looked very nervous, whilst Rosie wore a beaming smile that reached from one ear to the other.

"Sis!" Rosie was obviously overjoyed to see the other lop rabbit. "I'm sorry about your guitar..."

"That was my last damn G-string!" Bonnie stopped as Chica began to giggle. "What?!"

The hen was clearly trying to hold in her laughter. Slowly though, Goldie chuckled and Freddy made a loud snort. Even Rosie seemed to be finding Bonnie's words funny.

"Seriously!"

Chica was now doubled over, clutching her stomach as she cackled. The purple rabbit furrowed her brows before she finally understood. "...Oh." She sighed. "You are all so immature..."

At last, when the joke's effect had worn off, Rosie remembered the conversation between her and her sister. "...Anyway...Mum was so happy to see us. You should've come! She would've loved to see you, too!"

The purple lop grunted, looking away with a sideways glance. "I was fine here. How is mother?"

"She's good! Though she did mention that she had plans to move out of Smalltown..." Rosie's face became saddened with the knowledge of such an idea. "I don't think she really wants to live here anymore. You know, what with all of the bad experiences of our father abusing us and stuff. I think she just wants to forget for good and move on."

"I see." Bonnie's face betrayed no signs of emotion. "And she has no idea of where she'll be going?"

"She said something about moving to one of the quieter boroughs outside of here, I think, but I can't say for sure."

"Hm."

"So, now that evreh'one's here, what are we going teh' do?" Goldie surveyed his friends.

"What is there _to_ do?" The voice came from the uncaring English lop standing next to Freddy. "It's as dull as staring at a brick wall in here."

"Bonnie!" Rosie chided.

"Oooh! Ooh ooh ooh!" Yellow blurred in front of Freddy's vision as Chica jumped up and down. "How about a drink? We oughta catch up, ya hear me?"

"Sounds like a great ideh'!" Goldie started towards the round table in the Conference Corner. "'Ah, wait, Chiceh', do yeh' want meh' to help yeh' with teh' drinks?"

"Sure thing! You're so good at drinks. Even better than me!" She turned to the others. "Take a seat, guys!"

Freddy and the rest of the group each sat down around the table. Goldie asked them what drinks they each wanted, to which he answered "Orange juice, please!" Both Rosie and Foxy ordered a water, whilst Bonnie asked for a cup of tea. As the chicken and her golden accomplice left the room, Rosie struck up another conversation.

"So, how have you been? You know, seeing as me and Goldie were gone for a few days."

"Well, we've just been planning for the concert," Freddy informed her.

"Oh! Of course! That's coming up soon!" She paused. "...Did you figure out that last song?"

"Actually, no...we can't seem to come up with anything that would kinda...blow an audience away, you get me?"

"I see..." Rosie laughed a little. "Sometimes I'm kinda glad I'm not you, Freddy! It must be super tough, all of this band work."

Foxy, over in the corner next to Rosie, cleared his throat quietly. "Um...yeah...I feel really sorry for you, Freddy."

The brown bear laughed and looked at the anxious red fox, kindness present in his gaze. "Don't be! I'm alright."

The latter's orange cheek fur turned red from Freddy's act of warm-heartedness. "Only i-if you're sure! It would be no trouble for me to help..."

"Thanks, Foxy." Freddy smiled.

" _Drinks!_ "

He looked up. Chica emerged from the hallway opposite to Freddy, carrying a large tray with glasses and mugs upon it. Goldie wasn't far behind, trundling along merrily until the two reached the Conference Corner. The golden bear instinctively began to hand out the beverages.

"That's yeh'rs, Roseh'," he started, handing the tortoiseshell lop her water. "Foxeh', here's yeh'rs, in yeh'r favourite cup!" Foxy beamed warmly as he received the glass. "Next...ah! This must beh' Bonneh's!" The purple rabbit next to Freddy nodded curtly and took the mug from Goldie's paws.

Chica grinned as she took hold of another tall glass filled with orange liquid. "And, let's not forget the orange juice, requested by Mr. Fazbear himself!"

"Why, thank you, Chi," Freddy put on a tone of mock-flattery as he reached out to take the glass from the hen's paw. Before taking their own seats, both her and Goldie placed their own drinks on the table, and at last the group settled down, seeing as everyone was present.

"Well!" Chica held both arms up in the air. "The gang's all here! Aren't we, _gang_?" A wide grin spread across her face.

"Not funny, Swanson," Bonnie muttered from the corner. She raised her mug to her lips and sipped–but immediately drew back. "Bloody hell!"

"Too hot?" The hen grinned at her.

"Get lost."

Chica just giggled.

"...So...um...you guys...can we...um...talk about something...?" Foxy clutched his glass as he quietly spoke up.

"Of course!" Rosie was the first to answer. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Well...um...the other day I was reading something about the history of...I think it was called a _rust belt_ town, and it sorta reminded me of Smalltown. It was really interesting."

"'Ah love history too, Foxeh'! Smalltown's nice un' quaint, don't yeh' think?"

"Um...yeah, I agree...but I think there's more to it than that."

"How so?" Bonnie's inquisitive sister broke in.

"Remember when this town used to be an...oil mining town? I started looking through its history after I read that article on the rust belt town."

"Oil mining? What's that?" Chica cocked her head at Foxy.

"'Ah think yeh'll find that it's when natural oil is extracted from teh' ground."

"Ohhhh." It appeared that the yellow hen finally understood. "Waiiit...how d'they do that?"

"'Ave yeh' ever seen them long tube like things that they put intuh' teh' ground? Well, teh' hole it goes intuh' is drilled using 'ah oil rig. Surely yeh've heard of that, Chiceh'?"

"I...think so?"

"Well, aneh'wey, then they make holes in teh' tube, yeh' know, to let teh' oil get inside?

"How do they even know that it's there in the first place?"

"'Ah'm sure they get 'ah geologist –ah' think that's what they call 'em—to survey 'teh area first. Somehow they know where to find all teh' oil."

"You really know...quite a lot, Goldie," marvelled the red fox over in the corner.

"'Ah do!" The chunky golden bear looked rather proud of himself. "Glad teh' be able teh' help."

The conversation between the friends was cut off instantly as the sound of a phone ringing blared out across the room. Freddy looked down and, suddenly understanding that it was his, went to get up.

"Sorry, guys. I've got a call."

Bonnie growled. "It's from that bloody band executive again, isn't it?"

The brown bear looked over to her. "Bon, sweetheart, I'll only be a few minutes." As he turned to walk out of the room, his girlfriend retorted.

"And exactly _why_ do you need to leave to take this 'all-important call'?"

"Uhh...well, there might be a surprise involved! You wouldn't want it to be spoiled, would you?" There only came a sigh from behind him.

Bonnie watched through narrowed eyes as the bear left. Still penetrating the hallway that Freddy had gone down with her accusatory stare, she snarled her disagreement to the others. "He's always leaving his band for that damn executive. I honestly cannot count how many times it's happened."

"Well, I guess it's for the best..." Rosie threw a nervous glance around the occupants of the Corner. "Surely he has all of your best interests at heart?"

"Doesn't seem like it when all of these calls interrupt the time we spend as a group." She scanned the other members of the Fazbear Four. Chica's brows were furrowed in an uncharacteristic frown, whilst Foxy had shrunken back into his seat, tail flicking fretfully from side to side.

"Bonnie has a point," the yellow hen said decidedly. "We're his bandmates! And yet he doesn't really...what's the word..."

"...Listen...?" Foxy added.

"Yeah!"

"'Ah think we should appreciate teh' time we have right now," Goldie reasoned. "After all, Freddeh's life doesn't dictate how we spend it."

"I agree," Bonnie's sister nodded and Chica backed her up with a strong "Exactly!"

"Fine, but he needs to change. I'm sick and tired of—"

"Oh, lighten up, sis! Why don't we continue with our conversation about Smalltown?"

The fox next to Rosie's eyes brightened at once. "Um...yeah! That would be really nice, if it's not too much trouble..." He adjusted his circular glasses nervously.

"Don't worreh'! 'Ah'd be thrilled teh' tell yeh' more!" Foxy smiled at the bear's offer.

"Thanks, Goldie."


	9. ACT ONE Chapter 6

A/N: From this point onwards, all names will be changed to the following:

Freddy = Frederick 'Freddy' Furlong

Bonnie = Beatrice Sawtell

Chica = Charlotte Swanson

Foxy = Finn Morgan

Rosie = Rosie Sawtell

Goldie = Undecided. Most likely Gael O' Bryan.

Weeks later, Finn's enthusiasm for the history of Smalltown had still not curbed, so Beatrice had (somewhat regretfully) agreed to take him to the library to look for books on the subject. It was, surprisingly for Smalltown, a pleasant morning, and the sun shone brightly as the purple lop and her fox companion were walking towards their destination.

"Um...Beatrice?" Although the library was in sight, Finn felt awkward and had decided to try his best at a conversation. Normally, being around the rabbit made his anxiety worse, but for some reason he found more comfort in being alone with her. It was better when everyone else wasn't looking at him.

"Yes?"

"Do you...like history too?"

Beatrice just looked at the ground. "I prefer technical things."

"Oh..." The red fox was clearly disappointed.

"Well, I mean, I can understand why someone would take an interest in it."

Hope sparked in his stomach. Perhaps he could convince her to read a few books with him! "That's great!" Feeling a little embarrassed at his sudden outburst, he bowed his head and reduced his voice to an even quieter volume. "Um...sorry...it's just that not many animals do understand why I like it..."

"Don't worry about it." The purple rabbit's tone was surprisingly forgiving. "When I still went to school, the other children used to think I was too academic for only thinking about computers all day."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"...Um...were you really academic in school?"

"All the time. I used to be good at maths and science."

"That's...um...I bet you did really good!" Finn giggled nervously. "Ah...hehe...I was never too good at those kinds of subjects. I was more..."

"Creative?"

Her response surprised him. It was no secret that the fox enjoyed art, writing and history, but of all of his friends, Beatrice was the least likely to know. She generally sat in her office all day and declined anyone who appeared at her door!

"Y-Yeah!"

The lop just nodded, and Finn became worried that he had centred the conversation too much around himself. Aiming to fix this, he decided to say something that would divert it back to her again.

"You're...um...really smart, Beatrice. I bet you did so well in college!"

Immediately the sound of her pawsteps became silent and he turned apprehensively to look at her. The purple doe had stopped in the middle of the pavement, her eyes unnaturally wide, which were glazed over as she stared into the distance. Every sense of happiness in Finn turned to uneasiness. What was wrong? Was it his fault? Had he said something? His breathing quickened. "I-I'm s-sorry! I didn't mean to—what's wro—"

"M'fine." As if nothing had happened, Beatrice blinked a few times before proceeding in her walk as before. However, the red fox was still shaken. He decided it would be best to keep quiet until they entered their destination.

For the run-down Smalltown, the library had aged well. It was a large building made out of orange brick, which looked new in contrast to the surrounding structures. Four tall, cream-coloured pillars stretched from the borders of the entrance steps to the roof, giving it a grand appearance. The building had two floors, with large windows to indicate this. On the block that the top of the pillars met, words had been engraved into the stone, which read: _**SMALLTOWN LIBRARY EST. 1981. IN COMMEMORATION TO PATTILLO HIGGINS**_ _._ The name sounded familiar to Finn, although he couldn't quite remember where he'd heard it before. He brightened though upon realising that he might be able to find a good book to remind him in the library.

"Can't believe that a building looking as good as this is anywhere near _Skanktown._ " The fox's companion spoke up from beside him as they stared up at the structure from the bottom of the stone steps.

"It...it looks very nice, though!"

"Agreed." She looked over to the double-doored entrance. "You wanted history books?"

"Um...yeah! Can we go in?"

"Of course." Beatrice led the way up the pale stone steps, Finn following close behind, his tail twitching in nervous anticipation. He didn't really like any public places; social interaction made him want to hide. Although, he tried to tell himself, this was a library—somewhere where he wouldn't have to be visible to anyone if he didn't want to be. He decided to focus on his bandmate instead, and looked around as the pair walked through the doors. Finn had, of course, been here before, but every single time he came he was always in awe of the towering bookshelves and seemingly endless resources. It was like paradise to the fox—he had access to it all whenever he wished to.

The purple rabbit in front stopped and then turned to look at him. "I take it you know where the books are?"

"Um...yeah, they're on the far side, I think...?"

"Lead the way."

Finn was a little worried about taking the lead, but reminded himself that he'd done it before on his own; he also had Beatrice with him. He began to walk towards the back of the library, passing countless bookshelves and reading areas on the way, before they finally arrived at the section they were looking for. It was marked 'History' in bold letters, and the red fox felt pleased that he had remembered correctly. Eagerly he took to flipping through the books, whilst his companion just stood and stared around with a half-lidded expression. Perhaps she was just taking in all of the different novels and information! Returning his attention to what he was doing, Finn marvelled as he came upon just the book he was looking for. Upon pulling it out to inspect it further, he noticed its title: _'Smalltown: The Past and Paranormal of an Oil Mining Giant'_. Instantly he was intrigued. He couldn't believe he hadn't found this one before! Plus, it even suggested a new topic he hadn't ever considered looking into: he'd always been too scared. Though perhaps it would impress his friend? Finn really did like to show his peers that he wasn't just an anxious animal; it made him feel warm and appreciated when they reacted in a positive way to whatever he'd shown them. And Beatrice...she was quite hard to impress. It truly would be incredible to wield a good response from her.

Deciding that he'd at least try, Finn approached the tall English lop. "Um...Beatrice?"

"Mm?" She looked down at him.

"I...um...I found an interesting book!" He attempted to gather his courage, but it was slipping away. "D-Do you...um...do you..."

"Do I what?"

"...Do you want to read it with me?"

Beatrice raised her eyebrows. "What book is it?"

The red fox held up the book for her to see more closely. He noticed her narrow her eyes as she read the title—a differentiating reaction to his. "I don't know, Finn. I don't believe in the paranormal."

Disappointed, said fox let out an almost inaudible sigh and started lowering the book so that he could tuck it under his arm. Before he could fully do so, however, he noticed the purple rabbit's expression change ever so slightly, although it was just enough to make Finn hopeful again.

"You know what? I'll have a look with you."

He was almost taken aback at her answer. "G-Great! We can...um...sit over there!" Finn pointed to a circular table, fitted into a corner. There were two seats available, and he made his way over to it before sitting down in one of them. He placed the book on the table and waited for Beatrice to arrive, and once she did he opened it up to the contents page. "So...um...what should we look at?"

"Well...considering what Goldie was talking about the other week, we should look at the section that talks about when oil was first discovered here."

The red fox flipped to the page that the section was stated to start on. Firstly, he noticed the bold title at the top, but his attention was then immediately caught by the variety of interesting images spread around the information. One was an old black and white photo, showing an animal standing atop a tall hill, a long cane in his paw. Another clearly depicted a dated map of Smalltown—there were some areas that Finn didn't recognise. It was indeed very intriguing, though, and as he lowered his head so that he could examine it more closely, the fox heard his companion make a short "Hm."

"Wh...What are you reading about?" he enquired.

"Look at this." Beatrice was pointing to a paragraph next to one of the photos.

Finn tilted his head, a quirk he had developed; it helped him to concentrate. His eyes began to scan the passage of text, but before he could read too far down a name jumped out at him.

"Higgins! Pattillo Higgins!"

"Who?"

"I...um...I saw his name on the commemoration plaque outside! I remembered his name, but I...wasn't really sure what he did..."

"Look. It says down here." As the purple rabbit spoke, the red fox continued reading.

 _'There had been suspicions of oil beneath Smalltown for a long period, in particular underneath a landform known as 'Sawtelltop Hill'. Many townsfolk reported seeing large sulphur springs, alongside gas—which was possible to ignite. Eventually, on the 8th August 1892, a group of men banded together and formed the Smalls' Oil Company: Grayson O'Brien, Edward Carroll, Pattillo Higgins, and other individuals.'_

Again Finn stopped. ' _Sawtelltop'?_ He stared over at his bandmate, who was just looking at the page, seemingly unaware of the hill's obvious connection to her. "B...Beatrice?"

"Hm?"

"I-It says your name! I...I mean surname!" he stuttered, his excitement at getting the words out taking over proper speech. To prove his point, he directed her attention to the sentence in which the name of the hill was stated.

The fox saw Beatrice squint at the book, and her brows furrowed as she saw it. "Huh. Coincidence."

Finn gulped. He didn't know whether it was out of excitement or worry—at this point it had become hard to tell—but then again, he did feel a sense of paranoia creeping up on him. Surely Sawtell was just a surname that had happened to reach America? After all, Beatrice's father _was_ half-American. He shook his head. The red fox's mind was starting to overload. That was something that was happening regularly, recently...oh, now he couldn't concentrate...

"Finn."

The clear voice of the doe beside him broke him out of his overthinking. He looked up at her, noticing what could have been a hint of concern in her facial expression.

"Um...yeah...?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm...I'm fine..." It was best, the fox thought, that he didn't cause her any worry.

Beatrice didn't seem convinced, but she just turned to look at the book again. Finn stayed quiet until he saw her narrow her eyes at something. He was naturally curious, so he leant over to see what had caused such a reaction. On the page was another image, one he hadn't taken notice of before, and it showed a dark and dingy-looking tunnel. Immediately his attention was grabbed. "Beatrice, what does it say about that one?" He extended an arm to point at the photo.

"Hmm..." The purple English lop's head moved slightly from side to side as she read through the accompanying information. "Something about...tunnels?"

"Tunnels?"

"Yes." She gestured to a paragraph underneath the picture. " _'It was discovered that there was a network of tunnels underneath the town, however investigators were unsure as to how large of an area that they spanned. After being presented with these findings, Higgins concluded that they would not be of any trouble to himself and his team, and would not interfere with their drilling._

 _"'However, soon after the successful drilling on Sawtelltop was completed, the oil suddenly stopped flowing. The issue was investigated thoroughly, but nobody was able to find anything that may have caused the problem. The abrupt lack of oil from the town's main gusher gave rise to chilling superstitions from some of the townsfolk, who thought that the tunnels underneath the surface had something to do with it.'"_

Hearing this, Finn froze. _Chilling superstitions_? His anxious mind began to race at the thought of there being something malevolent underneath the town he'd been living in all his life. Most animals would just write off the contents of the paragraph to be nonsense, but the red fox had always believed in omens and the paranormal. He shivered. What if the underground passageways were the cause of all the bad luck he and his friends had ever had? What would happen next? Would his thoughts cause more bad things to happen? _Were they all the next targets_? The terrifying thoughts whirled around in his head, overwhelming him again, compelling him to put his head in his paws without him even realising that he was doing so. The next thing Finn knew, he was shaking, scared for himself and his companions that he loved so dearly. He begged to whatever he thought would listen to him, pleading that no harm would come to him or anyone else. Was it any use? What if his prayers were just disregarded? The fox's breathing quickened to the point where the world around him faded into just a blur that smeared itself in amongst his deadly considerations. Finn just about felt himself begin to sweat before he became aware of a paw on his back and, turning his head, could make out a purple blur extended towards him.

"Finn?"

The latter didn't respond until his surroundings had stopped spinning. "Y-Yeah...?"

"We need to get back. You're not okay, I can tell."

"...N-No...no, I'll...I think I'll...be..." He could barely get the words out thanks to his irregular breathing pattern.

"Look, I know that you won't be. We can take the book, and you can read it once we get to the old pizzeria."

Finn looked at the tall rabbit towering over him. He didn't really know what to do: if he agreed to leave, he'd not only feel as if he'd wasted an opportunity, but would also have dragged Beatrice out for nothing. She hadn't really wanted to come anyway. However if he stayed at the library, he would almost certainly just annoy his English lop companion. Not to mention that if he decided he wanted to leave after starting to read the book with her again, he'd just cause even more of a bother. It was still extremely hard to concentrate in order to come to as reasonable a conclusion as he could, despite the fact that the building was quiet enough to do so. A troubled moan escaped his lips as his brain tried to weigh up all the pros and cons alongside keeping all of his worries at the front of his mind.

A chair scraped against the carpet and the fox saw Beatrice get up. "I think it's best if we just go home. Come."

Finn was somewhat relieved that the rabbit had made the decision for him. He began to rise from his seat, but his legs wouldn't let him and he ended up having to plant both of his paws on the table to stabilise himself. Trying again to get up, he pushed, and yet again failed. It was then, though, that he felt a paw on his shoulder. The purple doe's voice came again behind him, asking whether he needed help in achieving his goal, and he accepted it. Eventually, after calming down a little, Finn and his comrade were both on their way back to the old pizzeria. Despite how calm he told himself that he had gotten, however, the thoughts of the tunnels still lingered in the back of his mind – along with all the paranormal theories that came with them.


	10. ACT ONE Chapter 7

**A/N: Hello everyone! I'm so sorry for the short chapter and delayed update. I was extremely ill and was unable to finish it until today.**

 **I must announce that Furlong & Co will be going on an indefinite hiatus. Currently, I am very overloaded with schoolwork and personal problems, and thus have many things to think about. I have decided that during the hiatus, updates may come, but they will be when I am able to find the time to write and post them. I apologise for this.**

 **Lastly, I want to reassure you all that no matter what, I will not give up on this story. It is incredibly special to me, and I want to share it with everyone.**

 **That being said, please enjoy the chapter!**

He was coming back.

The hound shivered in fear, crouched like a hermit in the dark corner which almost felt like a refuge to him. It was the only thing he had in this mouth of madness, save for the few kind staff who came to take him for 'checkups' and whatever else – he couldn't remember – that they deemed necessary. The hound didn't know much, but one thing he did know was that he wasn't supposed to be here. There must have been a mistake – but then again, how could _doctors_ make mistakes? Didn't they understand, or had no one told them? Either way, the dog guessed that his dreams had had something to do with the…transferral. And in his mind, it seemed as if everyone was after the answers to the garbled messages they left.

 _Knock. Knock._

Oh no.

The hound knew that the man outside wouldn't wait for an answer, even if he were courageous enough to let out so much as a weak whimper. This time he didn't even bother, and as if on cue the door opened with a resounding click. It collided with the wall with a dull thud, and the animal he dreaded stepped into the room, an air of malevolence about him.

"You know why I'm here, maggot."

At this, the dog did not dare speak. He nodded meekly, crawling out of his corner at a speed which he knew was sure to get him scolded. Picking up the pace, he soon found himself crouched in front of the figure in submission, for he could not do much else unless he wanted to be in more pain than what was about to come. The majority of the pain, he knew, came from the needle that the man before him carried with him to every one of these 'visits' – if they could be called such a harmless-sounding name. And he could see the pointy terror now, clutched in the figure's right hand. Agonisingly slowly, the latter raised the needle and gestured for the hound to hold out his arm. Unwillingly, he obliged and extended his arm, bracing himself.

Almost immediately the unmistakable piercing pain seemed to ricochet through his frail body, the perpetrator jabbing the point into his arm with more force than was necessary. The dog yelped in pain and instantly wished he hadn't, for a hand came across his face straight afterwards, leaving a burning sensation where it had hit with such force. He was left baring his teeth in an attempt to bear the pain; he had never handled it well ever since he was a child. It wasn't long afterwards that he inevitably collapsed to the floor, the effects of the serum beginning to spread around every inch of his body, leaving nowhere to get relief and nowhere to hide. Throbbing began to pulse through his consciousness, and bright zig-zags of light interrupted the little vision he had left in the near-darkness. The hound's breathing quickened as they multiplied and before he knew it he was seeing red. He couldn't make anything out except for the layer of what seemed like an opaque vermillion colour which spread across the surroundings, covering everywhere he looked. Nothing could stop it now. He knew what was coming.

An image flashed into view, with clarity so brilliant that it made the dog's eyes ache – or rather he thought it did. The image consisted of trees, all a duller version of the red he had seen before. In fact, the entire environment was tinted with varying shades of it, save for the rocky wall that surrounded the alcove in which they had grown. He knew this place all too well; unfortunately, his superior did not. The creeping sense of unease (which came close to absolute terror) began to flood the hound as a ringing wormed its way into his eardrums. It was then that a shadow blocked his view of the grove; it too was distorted and malformed like the rest of the world he knew it belonged to. The shape of what appeared to be a loosely-fitting cloak outlined the shaded form, concealing what remained a mystery to even the dog. Jutting from the shadow were two knobbly forms—arms—that were extended to hold a long and somewhat beaten pole. What was visible at the center of what must have been the creature's face was the feature that struck such fear into the hound, however: two menacing slits, emanating a blinding white glow that was sufficient enough to reveal countless grotesque wrinkles set into a wide head.

The dog felt himself trembling despite only being partially conscious of it. Against his will, he sensed his dry lips begin to part, allowing a hoarse sound to emit from his vocal chords.

"…Ackkghhh…"

Clearly the other animal in the room with him had heard this. His voice soon came, muffled and delayed, but with the anger that the hound knew he could not argue with. " _What?_ "

"…H-He…he's…calling…"

"Who? That _fisherman?!_ "

The canine's body shook once more under the influence of the fluid. "Y-Yes—agh—i-it…it's going to h—" He broke off as the shape in his vision lunged for him with a sound that made his stomach lurch. For what seemed to be endless amounts of time he found himself trapped in a swirling red vortex, where the current from an unknown water source struck at his frail body and ear-splitting screams assaulted him. The dog was battered, thrown to and fro, trapped. The overload of everything combined churned inside him and he wailed, his voice weaving in amongst the chaos of the world that held him like a prison cell. At last, the horror overcame him and the red vanished, to be replaced with a deep, unchanging black.

The hound didn't know when the real world returned.

His eyes opened with a snap of pain, and what found itself in his peripheral vision was smudged together in a blur of greys and blacks. After a few blinks the dog found himself able to turn his head, and hesitantly did so. When he looked over to the stone bench nearby however, he identified the soles of his superior's feet still resting in exactly the same place, but the latter said nothing. He brought his weary gaze up towards the figure's face. The other animal's expression was unreadable. Immediately fear sparked inside the canine's chest—but this abruptly began to fade as he noticed the former rising and walking tediously slowly over to the door.

"We'll pick this up again _tomorrow_." The hound startled as the mysterious figure finally uttered a sentence. "You'd better control yourself, maggot."

With not a word more, the animal opened the door and stepped out into the hallway outside, paused, and slammed it behind him. All that remained in the hound's room was the echo of the ' _thud_ ' and the hazy anxiety of the events prior, and once more the feeble dog was alone.


End file.
